The Plan of a Master
by TrueRaven
Summary: The Master when you hardly knew him. An old ally before he transformed. A Bastard you will hate forever. The Master is coming, this is his story...
1. Introduction: 1

The Plan of a Master  
Part 1. Introduction  
  
"Mereua, you know we'll get in hot water for this," a slightly slender young man said, "I mean, sure we're doing something good for the Vault, but I want to see the outside whenever the doors are supposed to open."  
Richard Mereua, Head of Scientific Studies of Vault 8, looked up from the computer screen and a small smile creased his lips. A fit, trim man in his early 30s, with dark brown hair and a short, curly brown beard, Mereua was the most intelligent man in the Vault by far. "Sam, trust me. I've taken all the necessary precautions. And if, by some miracle, we are caught, I will take full responsibility. You have nothing to worry about, trust me."  
Sam Boyarsky unconsciously touched the small ring on his left hand for a second before answering. "Rich, you know I trust you. I've just got a future to think about now." Sam was a young man in his mid 20s and one of the few men in the Vault who could hold more than intelligent conversation with Richard Mereua. With short, light brown hair and a face old women loved to pinch, Sam sometimes looked more like a schoolboy rather than Assistant to the Head of Scientific Studies of Vault 8.   
Vault 8 was home to 6,749 residents whose parents had made it to safety after the Nuclear War that destroyed the world. World War III, as it was called by some, had been the most horrific plight the world had ever known. Most thought it would have ended the human race, ended all life forever. But, as a wise man once said, life will find a way.   
The United States built massive Vaults before the war. Very few know how many there really are but they were designed to provide safety for people who may then start over and make up for the mistakes of their ancestors. Vault 8 was just an ordinary Vault, with the ordinary rules. Each Vault had an Overseer who was the equivalent of a President. When the first people of Vault 8 arrived, they decided that they were to emulate the former United States to make sure the Overseer didn't become too powerful. Therefore, Vault 8 citizens elected a Vault Council to counteract the Overseer. When a member of the Council dies or becomes too ill to do his duty to the Vault, a new Council member is elected. Of course, any Overseer could be a bad apple in disguise. Only the Vault Council can remove an Overseer, and they needed evidence he was that proverbial bad apple.   
"Sam, we all deserve to know the truth about why we are here. The Overseer seems to think that this Vault is not the democracy the United States once was. If we are to re-establish the former United States of America, as he says we are, then why does he limit our ability to vote on which direction the Citizens of Vault 8 should take when we emerge from this technological hell-hole? Why does he force his will on us with his "Vault Police"? The Communistic Theory he seems to be implementing here lead to the destruction of the world for Pete's Sake!" Mereua was red faced and scowling, far from amiably, towards Boyarsky. Mereua had a temper and more than once spent the night in the Vault 8 Detentional Facilities.   
Slowly Mereua took a deep breath, as if he knew what the other man was thinking. "Sam, I know that filthy bastard is hiding something in his Overseer Logs and if I have to hack into it to expose him for the fraud he is then damnit I will!"   
"Rich I trust you, just understand that I don't want anything to happen to Lucy. I haven't been married long, but I know that without her I couldn't find the will to keep going."   
Slowly the knot that had been forming in Mereua's forehead began to loosen and the red in his face went away. "Always remember one thing my friend, you can always trust me. And you do, yes?" After a quick nod from Sam he continued, "Now let's get back to business here." A small frown came across his face. "Hmmm, it seems as if our friend the Overseer has put up some new defenses around his spot on the Vault Records. I think I can get around them, if the inventor of the program could maybe give me a hand?"   
Smiling broadly, Mereua motioned to the seat next to him. Boyarsky seemed a little hesitant, but sat down and looked at the screen. Strings of code filled his eyes as Mereua scrolled down the seemingly endless series of nonsense that is computer code.   
"Stop there," a slightly jittery Boyarsky murmured, "fifth line down after the ampersand. His password is 'VaultFallout'."  
"Humph. If we're right someone will be 'falling out' won't they, Sam?" A slight movement of the head was all Mereua saw before continuing. "Now shall we read some records our friend to Overseer has deemed too important for public viewing? But where to start…" Another frown turned his mouth. "How about here? The Overseer was acting a little bit odd on Thursday wasn't he? Yes, that's where we should start."   
The soft tapping of Mereua's fingertips on the keyboard was all that was heard in the room for seconds before words filled the screen in front of the two men. Then the silence was broken abruptly with a slow gasp from Boyarsky and another scowl followed by a deep growl from Mereua. After scrolling down for a second, these words filled the screen:  
  
Thursday May 12  
  
To: drgrandua.vt8  
  
Things are getting better. The Vault Council is bending to my 'suggestions' more quickly than usual and seems to be more in favor of getting rid of Mereua as the Head Scientist. The little bastard has more than been a thorn in my middle with his constant babbling about 'freedom of expression' and 'freedom of choice'. The only choice these people need to make is whether they want to kneel before me or whether they want a bullet in their heads. Mereua can be dealt with of course. The Vault Police are working on a way to, let's just say, 'eliminate a minor nuisance'. It will be difficult to replace his intelligence but maybe if we took a sperm sample or two from his body before we cremate it? No. Better to purge his blood before it becomes a problem. You will, of course, take over for him whenever we can remove him from his position. Remember our deal Grandua, you get what you want so long as I get what I want.  
  
Overseer Reliche  
  
Mereua's face was scarlet and a vein was throbbing in his right temple. His right hand was visibly shaking as he spoke in the most thunderous whisper Boyarsky had ever heard. "That bloody bastard! Not what I was looking for but if anything else now I know what he wants. And Dr. Grandua too. Boyarsky help me post this to the public forum. If we can get it there we can surely-"   
Mereua was silenced suddenly by the Vault 8 alarm system. The doors around the room opened and a flood of men dressed in the blue and red of the Vault Police stormed in. All were armed with Cattle Prods and Colt Pistols, and none wore more than a devious smile on their faces.   
"So my dear friend Richard Mereua and his assistant Sam Boyarsky how are you?" A man best described as a small giant entered the room. Henson Reliche was a man who was seldom opposed by other members of the Vault. With close cut blond hair, a face seemed carved from stone and almost black eyes that seemed always searching and piercing, Reliche's face alone would have sent most men running. Add to that his exceptional height of roughly 6'6, a close fitting Vault Suit that showed all his rippled muscle and deep voice that would have set the bravest man to quaking knees, you had a man who seemed destined for leadership. That is, if not a good fight anyway. Reliche never seemed happy but now he looked more than ferocious and his voice boomed.  
"The two of you would have much explaining to do if I didn't already find you guilty of treason to Vault 8. Hacking into our confidential files? Tsk tsk. I would have thought a man with your smarts would have known that to be wrong Dr. Mereua. No matter, now. Let's get on to what to do with you."   
A smile that barely touched his lips somehow seemed to make his face all the more intimidating, but Mereua didn't even blink. Instead he looked defiantly into the eyes of his accuser and began to speak, "Overseer Reliche, how are you? I hope you are quite well, really I do. I want you to be in perfect heath, in mind and body, when I expose you for the fraud you are. I want you to hear every statement at your trial and I want you to remember every detail of the setting. If it was possible I would want you to remember the pain of your indefinite execution." Mereua then smiled a smile that could have broken steel; "You will go down, Overseer, one way or another."  
If Reliche looked dangerous before, he now looked more than villainous. A small vein started to throb in his temple as he restrained himself from lashing out in a rage. A leader can't look like a madman or crack from anger and still keep the trust of his command, Mereua knew this and that the only man in Vault 8 with a worse temper than himself was the Overseer. Playing mental chess with the Head Scientist was always ill advised.   
Slowly he calmed himself and the Overseer spoke, "Guards take them to the Detentional Facilities. They will get one meal a day and water twice. Just enough to keep them alive, mind you. There will be no trial but I believe I have the perfect punishment for these fine young scientists. Take them now!" Somehow grinning gleefully yet angrily, the Overseer disappeared back into the doorway from which he came.   
Guards then handcuffed Boyarsky and Mereua and lead them to their cells to await a punishment unjustified, from a man who could be crueler than most humans could imagine.  
  
**********  
  



	2. Introduction 2

The Plan of a Master: Introduction Part 2  
by True Raven 

Henson Reliche stalked down the hallways of Vault 8, his footsteps making echoes, towards the one place he could clearly think before he tangled with the Vault Council. Around him lights blinked and once in a while a Vault Citizen would try and say something to him or a member of the Vault Police would salute their leader. Reliche hardly noticed.   
  
"Smart little bitch," the Overseer thought as he stormed into the Vault Training Center. "I'll show him some pain before this is through." He went to a punching bag and cracked his knuckles before slamming his fist into the sandbag. It creaked and swayed for a second before he started some combinations that had the bag reeling and the chain it was on moaning as if it was about to snap. 

"But how can I hurt him most?" he thought, letting his body work as his mind became free. "What can I possibly do to cause him more pain than he has ever felt in his life? His little shit assistant too." Boyarsky will be hurt as well, must be hurt as well. Better to show these Vault Citizens he wouldn't be as soft as his predecessor Overseer Daniel Geomson. 

Now there was a soft man. Geomson had taught people that peace and love were the way to go. Like some post apocalyptic hippie, Geomson wanted peace and his citizens to feel good about themselves. The only thing Reliche liked about Geomson was that he was dead. The previous Overseer lasted for 6 years after taking over for his father, who had been Overseer from the time the Vault doors closed when the war started. His reign was short, apparently because Anti-Rad can make you very high if taken in large enough doses. And sterile as well, it seemed. All for the better in Reliche's opinion, both Geomson's were complete fools and opportunity came knocking for him shortly after the second Geomson's death. 

The scanners outside the Vault picked up the signal of a large insect that looked very much like a scorpion, if it wasn't 30 times as large anyway. While various members of the Council were vying for the position of Overseer, Reliche came across that image and broadcast it on the Vault Network along with his self-nomination for Overseer. A few days later a couple Vault Council members backed him and his ideas for an impenetrable defense that would keep all Vault Citizens safe from outsiders. With the different factions arguing amongst themselves, he won a small victory by slight majority, and the title of Vault 8 Overseer. A small victory was still a victory and now he was in power. All the glorious power and nobody man enough to oppose him, except Richard Mereua. 

In his 10 years as Head of Scientific Studies of Vault 8, Richard Mereua had done some things that other men in his field goggled at. Mereua had always been the one to discover something new and exciting. Ironically enough, he was the one who first discovered the scanners on the outside of the thick Vault walls. Also the first to calculate how long it would take before the radiation level would be safe enough to exit the Vault. He said 20 more years and it would all be safe enough to exit and live without a constant supply of Anti-Rad. He said it was even possible that people could be living on the surface now, but their condition would be less than healthy. Mereua was a smart man, a pity he had to be too radical. If he would only bend before Reliche… 

The Overseer stopped at a sudden sting of pain. Looking down, his hands were swollen and one or two knuckles were bleeding. "Son of a Bitch," he muttered. Thoughts of Mereua always made him angry enough to break something, but this was the first time he had taken the anger out on himself without realizing it. "And the last," he swore aloud. 

Boyarsky was another he had to concern himself with. Why did all the brilliant men have to think too much? If they would just submit themselves and their brainpower to Reliche, imagine all the things he could do to make Vault 8 the most powerful in whatever was left of the earth. There were more Vaults, he was certain of that. And he would make Vault 8 the superpower the United States once was. More. Vault 8 would be THE superpower of the world. And he would lead it. No, he would own it. All the power in the world at his command, in his control. The thought would have made him giggle had he been that type of man. 

There would not be any giggling yet, however. Maybe in the future once he had disposed of Mereua and now Boyarsky. What if Boyarsky was the key? Or rather, not just Boyarsky, but any whom Mereua cared for. Because of his intelligence, Mereua had many that listened to him in the Vault but few close friends. What if hurting a friend was the only way to hurt Mereua? Now there was a good idea, and if nothing else, another who opposed him would be eliminated. No friend of Mereua's could possibly be anything but trouble as far as Reliche was concerned. 

Suddenly behind him, he heard a sound. A young couple had entered the Training Center and was staring lovingly into each other's eyes. The love the two of them shared for one another was well known and either would do anything for the other. Something clicked for the Overseer and a small smirk of a smile came across his face. Maybe he would be giggling today after all… 

********** 

The Vault 8 Detentional Facilities were as clean as anywhere else in the Vault. So clean they shined actually. With it's state of the art security systems, this area of the Vault was the safest place for a good, upstanding Vault Citizen. And the worst place for a criminal. Of course, there were very few criminals in Vault 8. 

Any Vault was supposedly about as close as you could get to a utopia, although Boyarsky had only seen one Vault. Bad people were few and very far between. Maybe people realized that they had to work together to survive. Maybe they thought that they would never get away with crime. Maybe people were just not dumb enough to commit any real atrocities while in a place where you could never escape the law. If Overseer Reliche had done anything right during his reign, he had put the fear of breaking the law into people. Only problem with Reliche was that it was fear of breaking his laws, not the Vault Council's laws. 

Boyarsky could see Mereua out of the corner of his eye, bleeding from a gash just below his ear that ran down his cheek about two inches. That bastard would pay, Mereua would see to that if nothing else ever in his life. Overseer Reliche would pay dearly. 

"Mereua?" Boyarsky whispered, no telling what the guards could   
or could not hear. "Are you ok?" 

The Head Scientist looked up from the ball he had curled himself into in the corner of the room. He had a black eye and was slightly bloody and swollen. Every now and again he would give a little twitch on his right side. The twitching was not from pain or from crying, as Boyarsky could clearly see. Mereua was pissed. More than that. Infuriated with a hint determination was a better way to describe it. Looking at his boss made him realize that nothing was ever going to be the same again, for the two of them, for Overseer Reliche or for any inside the Vault. Life was going to be very different, Boyarsky was sure of it. 

Mereua took a small breath and said, "You know they will be coming back. Reliche worded it so they could do anything they wanted to us so long as we live." 

"I hadn't thought of that Doctor." 

"I didn't think you had. You've stayed very calm throughout this Sam. I'm proud of you but there will be much more to go. We face execution if the Vault Council denounces us as traitors. If Reliche allows us to live that long, that is." 

"Yes Rich, I understand but I can't be frightened. I know that Lucy will be allowed to come here and see me. That is a law Reliche can't break or someone will question his ideals. Once she finds out where we are she will come to visit us. I can't let her see me scared." 

"I know little about love, friend, because I've never married but I do know this." Mereua's face took on an almost fatherly look. "If anyone can see you scared and still allow you to keep your dignity it will be your wife. You two love each other and will forever. So long as you are together you can fight on unafraid." 

"And I will." 

"That's my friend." Mereua was beaming, despite his mangled, bloody face. "Now let's wait for our friends the guards to return, maybe this time they will beat me hard enough to actually hurt me." Boyarsky couldn't help roaring with laughter even if he was in a cell facing death. No fear yet or ever. Reliche will pay. 

Footsteps echoed down the hallway and four of the Vault Police unlocked the door and entered. 

"Boyarsky, you and Mereua can go," one of them said behind a small metallic facemask, with a visor. 

Looking cool and calm was difficult but Boyarsky looked at his friend and shrugged. "Would you like to leave now?" 

The reaction from the guards was less than amused. They went in and grabbed Mereua and Boyarsky roughly, forcing them to their feet. 

"You will leave now by the order of the Overseer!" The man's mouth was showing under the dark yellow visor that hid his eyes. It was twisted into no less than a horrid sneer. 

"Disobeying the Overseer is a crime punishable by up to four months in Vault Detentional Facilities," called another in a loud and angrily monish tone. 

"Damnit you self righteous bastards we're moving!" a slightly perturbed Mereua said. "If you force us to fall or get injured we won't be leaving any faster will we?" 

At that they released them both. Head Chess with Mereua would never get you anywhere, even if all he had to do was point out some common-sense. 

They walked with their guards to the door of the Detentional Facilities and were promptly shoved out. Mereua brushed himself off as if to rid himself of the feel of the guards. Boyarsky just looked at the door shut behind them in shocked awe. Some men would do anything to keep their pride, even if they hadn't lost any. 

"Well, I guess the Vault Council gave Reliche some Hell, huh?" a satisfied looking Mereua smirked. "Maybe that will give us some time to find out something else about him that we can use. He must have destroyed all our evidence from earlier but with a guy like him here will always be more." 

"Actually I'm going to go home for a while, Rich." Boyarsky shook his head slightly. A ball of ice had just been lifted from his chest and he wanted to be home with his family. His wife and his parents. God, he loved them so much. "But I'll be at work tomorrow. Let's say a little early at around 6? We didn't do too much today. Well, while we were incarcerated anyway." 

"Yes, yes I suppose that would be for the better wouldn't it?" Mereua looked a little off balance. Sam Boyarsky never asked for any time off, but Sam Boyarsky had never been thrown in jail for supposed "treason" to an evil asshole Overseer either. "Tell you what, come in at the normal time and just take a shorter lunch. You'll need some sleep after today's…events. Will that be acceptable?" the small grin his boss usually wore was back again, and in full force. How could he say no when his friend grinned like that? 

"Perfectly acceptable, my good doctor. Now if you'll excuse me, I have someone at home who's waiting for me." The sudden ecstasy of seeing his family had just hit him. He was free and nobody could suppress that full enjoyment of life that had suddenly hit him and almost made him explode. Feeling as though he was walking on air, Boyarsky turned and went into the elevator that was just down the hallway. 

He got off at Level 2, where his home was, and walked to his door, opened it and entered. The lights were off except for only a candle that was burning on the table next to the room he shared with Lucy. His wife liked little pre-technological fancies like that. She always caught all the wax in a dish and made a new candle by hand, so she could enjoy the little pleasantries of life over and over again. She only had a few candles, but she had two more burning in their room, giving off a scent that smelled almost as good as she did. They were the two candles she had burned on their wedding night the first time they made love. Wonderful memories from the women he loved beyond all reason. 

As he entered the room they shared he saw her lying on their bed. The room was comfortable and homely. With the metallic chairs that were so prevalent throughout the Vault and the dresser with a mirror that he and his wife dressed in front of together every day since they first married. There were few woodcarvings in the Vault but Boyarsky had traded anything he could to get as many as he could find. Another thing his wife loved. Strange that such a simple woman would agree to marry a man whose life was driven by the constant pushing of the technological limit. But she did and he thanked every celestial being he could think of before he went to sleep every night. 

There was a picture of them on their wedding day next to the doorway. He stopped and looked at it for a second. The beauty of his wife always astounded him. She wasn't small but not large either. She stood only to about his nose and was just a little heavier than slim, but not anywhere close to overweight. She had the most beautiful brown eyes any man had ever stared into and her light brown hair fell to just touching her delicate shoulders. The rest of her features he simply could not describe. No words would ever come close to matching the beauty of Lucy and even if he found some they probably wouldn't ever be good enough. Not for Lucy, the woman he would love for all eternity. 

She laid there silently in sleep apparently dreaming but not moving a muscle. Boyarsky always found it difficult to watch her sleep without holding her. That ecstasy of life was seemingly filling every nook and cranny of his body. He knew what it was he had to do. 

A pang of regret hit him as he went to wake her and tell her of his day. He closed his eyes and kissed her soft cheek. Then jumped back so quickly he almost knocked over the table that was next to him. 

She was cold, ice cold. Carefully he turned her over and gasped with tears filling his eyes and rage filling his body. A knife blade stuck out of the heart that had shown him more about life and love than any other he had ever known. He drew the blade out and blood, Lucy's blood, covered his hands as well as the blade. 

As he bent over to weep as any good husband would for their wife he heard a noise behind him. Jumping up he whirled just in time to feel a brass knuckled fist graze his cheek and strike the wall where his head had been a second earlier. Realizing that this was the person who had killed Lucy, he swung his fist as hard as his adrenaline and rage fueled body would allow. It hit the man squarely on the side of the head and he staggered backwards. 

"For Lucy!" he screamed as he lunged towards the assassin with the blade she had been killed by. Three quick movements, one across the hamstring, one across the jugular and then through the heart ended the life of a man he wanted to kill over and over again. Boyarsky slumped to the ground, stunned by the events that had just unfolded, for what seemed like hours. Then he heard another person approach. 

Pulling the knife from the chest of the wretched man whom had destroyed his young life he held it in front of him, a snarl on his face, ready to kill any whom dared to try what another had just failed to do. The sound came closer and he became more alert, on the balls of his feet shifting the blade from hand to hand. Someone turned on the light and…Richard Mereua entered the room. 

"Good God Almighty! Sam? What the bloody hell happened?" concern was etched across his face and his voice was unsteady. "Lucy is she…? Sam I'm sorry." 

Forgetting about the knife, or the attempted murder, or foolish manly pride Sam Boyarsky collapsed into the chest of his closest friend sobbing as hard as he could. Sobbing not for himself, but for Lucy. The one love he had ever truly had, the one he loved more than he could ever love himself was now gone. How could he ever face tomorrow? 

His friend comforted him as much as he could but the sobbing would not stop. He could scarcely breathe without choking on his own tears. He could feel a tightness in the other man's chest as he cried into it. Could he be feeling pain also? Of course he was, he was the one who had encouraged Boyarsky to ask Lucy on that first date to the Vault Rec. Room and was ultimately the one who encouraged Boyarsky to ask Lucy to marry him. Mereua loved Lucy almost as much as Boyarsky did, only differently. Mereua and Lucy were close friends too. He was amazed that Mereua wasn't bawling as well. 

Without any warning Boyarsky felt a growl come from the other man's chest. Looking up to see what was the matter, he found that the Overseer had graced their presence. Unconsciously pulling the knife from where he placed it behind his belt, Boyarsky snarled a quick and vicious, "What the fuck do you want?" 

"Only to come and arrest two murderers," was the quick and simple response. 

That answer was much too quick and simple. The Overseer looked too proud of himself. What was going on here? 

"Sorry Overseer Asswipe but the murderer is already dead. Maybe your Vault Police should start doing a better job." Mereua was talking calmly but the red was already starting to form in his face. 

"Maybe you didn't look too closely at who it was you killed." The Overseer pointed at the dead man who was slumped in the corner of the room, his blood pooling on the floor and staining the rug. The man was wearing the uniform of the Vault Police. "The two of you have just killed a law enforcement agent of Vault 8. Murder is absolutely forbidden here but you've done more than that haven't you?" 

"Listen Reliche, I don't know what you're talking about but if you don't get your self-centered ass out of here I'll be going to the Vault Council with a full report of all your recent activities." After his threat Mereua suddenly grimaced, as if the most painful thought on earth had hit him. Boyarsky couldn't think at all. 

"I think I see what's going on here so let me tell my version of this situation for all those who have yet to figure it out," the Overseer looked more than smug. What was he up to? "With her husband at work more than 13 hours of the day Lucy Boyarsky would sometimes get, shall we say, lonely. One day she met Greg Pailson, a member of the Vault Police department. Mr. Pailson was a good and upright citizen of Vault 8 but even he couldn't resist the…advances…of Mrs. Boyarsky. They had their affair while Mr. Boyarsky was at work and Mr. Pailson was off duty. Today Sam Boyarsky came home early only to find his wife with another man, namely Mr. Pailson. He murdered both of them with the help of his friend and co-worker Richard Mereua." That left a self-satisfied grin on the face of the Overseer. And the most hated look Boyarsky had ever seen on the face of Mereua. Sam was sure his face was no better. "Now I proclaim your sentence. You will-" 

"You will fuck your dead lackey up his stone cold ass!" A familiar voice shouted. Boyarsky felt himself lunge forward, bloody knife in hand, ready to slash the Overseer as many times as his exhausted body would allow. It seemed that the voice was his. Nobody would talk about Lucy that way… and live. 

He came within three steps of the putrid man before the small army of Vault Police Officers he hadn't even noticed were there grabbed him and Mereua, who was right by his side, ready to avenge the name of Lucy. They held him as ungently as he could ever remember being held as the Overseer spoke again. 

"I know it was difficult to see your wife and another man together but you could have dealt with it in a much different fashion." Boyarsky tried to push forward, the man was mere inches away, but the men that had him held him steady. "Now for your sentence. You, Sam Boyarsky and you, Richard Mereua, are convicted of murder. And I sentence you to complete exile from Vault 8. Since I feel generous, you will be given enough Anti-Rad to get you through the next three weeks. After that," a sadistic smile crept across his lips, "well, I'm sure you'll get through somehow. Guards, take them to the Vault Doors." 

They were pushed and prodded towards the doors of the Vault. Forced against their will by the vilest human beings Boyarsky had ever known. For the first time in his life, he was ashamed to call himself a Vault 8 Citizen. 

All too soon they found themselves at the door that lead to the outside. The scanners showed a barren wasteland. What would they really see? The Overseer pushed a few buttons on the side of the door and a low rumbling could be heard, followed by a shaking as the doors that hadn't moved in 27 years started to roll open. 

A cave was outside and they were picked up and thrown out. After them came a small bulging backpack and the Overseer. He stood even taller than usual as they were on the surprisingly cold ground of the cave. His smile could have broken stone and he gave his final oration to them, as they lay there dumbfounded at their current state of affairs. 

"I hope you feel better now. You both have what it is you wanted don't you? You both wanted to be free and away from me and now you have it." He turned to go but stopped. Looking at Mereua he said, "Watch out for those Giant Scorpions former Head Scientist. I couldn't have done it without you." He then threw back his head and laughed sadistically as he walked back into the safety of Vault 8, the doors rolling shut and slamming behind him with a monstrous clang. 

They sat there for a while. Neither talking to the other. Both so lost in thought about their now shattered lives and what to do next. Boyarsky knew he had no clue. His life, his family, Lucy… all gone. Yet he kneeled there on the ground of the cave and swore a vow to himself, "For all that he has done to my life, my friends, and the one I love, Henson Reliche will feel my vengeance." Simple and to the point, but full of more emotion than the vow showed at face value. 

Finally after what seemed like hours Richard Mereua looked at Sam Boyarsky. He had a knowing look on his face but wore no sign of happiness. His life was just as destroyed as Boyarsky's, but he also looked like a man who had an idea. With the most serene and steady voice he had ever heard out of his friend, Mereua told his idea. 

"Sam we are no longer who we once were. Reliche has disposed of us, as he has wanted to for a long time. Instead of sitting here and plotting revenge or trying to beg our way back in I suggest we start completely anew." 

"Rich, what are you talking about?" 

"Sam, we will take new names and become new people. I don't want to be known as the reject from Vault 8 forever. I will make my name in this wasteland somehow, and I will do it was a new person." 

"Are you sure Rich? Isn't that a bit, unrealistic?" He was trying to argue but he couldn't find anything better than that. The idea sounded good to him too. Better than good. No longer would he have to be the Widower Sam Boyarsky, Reject of Vault 8. He had been that for 10 minutes and already it was sickening. 

"Let's take some Anti-Rad and see what our new home looks like, Sam." 

They opened the backpack and found the Rad-X. After they swallowed it they went through the bag to find anything else that could be useful. A notebook and pen, some rope, and two pairs of sunglasses were all that was left besides the Anti-Rads and the knife still stuck behind Boyarsky's belt. Meager supplies to live off of. Especially for two people with the outdoorsman skills of a small, one legged turkey. 

Slowly they made their way to the mouth of the cave. Sunglasses on to protect their eyes from the blistering ball of fire in the sky that would surely welcome them once they were standing no longer in the cave. Everything was desert and brown as far as the eye could see. Small mountainous peaks jutted up from the scorched, bare earth. And cracks in the ground sometimes let a small whist of steam come drifting out. The sky was a dreary gray, with the area around the sun a slight shade of pink. This was home? Yes, this was home. 

"Sam do you wish to choose your new name now?" Mereua seemed a little shaky but still miles from the fear that was engulfing Boyarsky. Sam thought for a moment before answering. 

"Harold, after my father. The bravest man I will ever know. I need bravery to face this hell on earth." 

Mereua looked at him and nodded slightly then looked at the sky again. 

"What about you Rich?" Richard Mereua looked at the sky for a while before answering. 

"To face this bleakness I will name myself after the bleakness, in hope that it will only touch my name and I will never despair." His faced cringed at what he was about to do. Mereua was proud of his heritage and of his name. His father's father had been a General in World War III. Doing this was tearing him apart, inside and out. Looking out at the sky he screamed. 

"Hear me world and know my name! I am Richard Grey!" 

  
**********


	3. Chapter 3

The Plan of A Master   
Part 3: Survival 

By True Raven 

Two long, dark shadows crept over the parched, scarred earth in the early morning light. Two lone figures walked alone but together. The dry ground crunching beneath their boots. Two men walking away from what seemed to be a certain past into an uncertain future. Away from the Vault that had been their home. Away from the memories that haunted their dreams the past three days. 

One of the men was formerly known as Sam Boyarsky, now known as Harold. Harold was a man who barely looked old enough to leave the safety of his parents' home and now he was alone in the Wastes of the world. Harold was now alone with his only remaining friend in the world, Richard Grey.  
Richard Grey. 

The man formerly known as Richard Mereua. Grey was the one to suggest the name change after their exile from their Vault. Maybe he didn't want to think about what he had left behind. As Richard Mereua, Grey was the Head of Scientific Studies of Vault 8. He was a man with power and authority. Rich was also a man who was hated and feared by the Overseer of the Vault, Henson Reliche, the man who had them exiled from their home of Vault 8. Now he was no longer Richard Mereua, he was but a nomad. No power or authority was left for Richard Grey, Wanderer of the Wastes. 

As if the former Sam Boyarsky had left anything less. He left behind a wife and a small family. No children although he wanted some. He thought they had time but someone had left them with no time at all. He thought he would grow old with the woman of his dreams, the woman he loved. Instead he had been framed and exiled before even attending her funeral. He killed the man who harmed her but was sent away without even being allowed a goodbye to his fallen angel. He was a young married man with a beautiful young wife and a bright future inside the Vault. Now he lost everything. They truly both had lost everything. 

The problem they now faced was survival. No matter who they once were. The greatest man the world had ever known would die of starvation after a few days. They had already had their few days. And in those few days they had seen neither hide nor hair of anything remotely edible. They ignored their growling stomachs with as much courage as their bodies could muster but when they looked at each other's eyes they knew the situation was getting beyond desperate. 

********** 

"How do you feel Harold?" Grey looked a little worried but then again anyone should really look more than a little worried if they faced almost certain death in a Radioactive Hell. 

"Angry, violent, helpless, lonely. Too many emotions, not enough adjectives to describe them." Wasn't that the truth. If only Reliche was there for him to take his aggression out on. If he only had a way to purge the hate from his body. Too many "if only's" and no real certainties in his life anymore, except despair. Despair had welled up inside of him from the first moment he stepped into the sun for the first time in his life, and it seemed that it had an iron grip that wouldn't let go. 

The sun itself was amazing and horrid at the same time. 23 years inside an underground vault had made it so he had never seen the sun. The old books talked sparingly about it. Those people had seen it everyday of their lives. This was something shockingly new for Harold and they had taken it for granted. Under different circumstances maybe it would have been exciting but now it was just another sign that he would never again see his former home. 

"Be careful with emotions my friend. They can drive a man insane before he knows it. Keep them in check and never let them drive you to do something common sense warns against." That fatherly look was on Grey's face again. He looked haggard now. A partially overgrown beard covered the lower half of his face. Grey hated untidy beards; rather Mereua hated untidy beards. 

It was difficult not thinking of Grey as just Mereua under a different name. It was difficult to believe that he himself wasn't Sam Boyarsky anylonger. Maybe Grey would think differently of his facial hair growing to wild lengths. Maybe they both would become completely different people after a time in the Waste. Harold scratched the new hair on his own chin for a second. Damn sun made everything itchy. 

"Grey how much longer do you think we can go?" they were making a point of calling each other by their new names. If there was some sort of civilization left on earth they intended to find it. And if they did find it, they didn't want people asking too many questions. Calling each other by different names than they were prepared to give would definitely bring up some questions. Memories were painful enough without people trying to add to them. Would things ever get any better? 

"Harold, I think we've got a couple days left if we can find water today. If we can't…" a small frown turned down the corner of his lips. "I think we have until nightfall. We are already extremely dehydrated and our bodies haven't had any food for three days. I don't want to lie to you friend, the chances aren't good if we can't find food today." He sighed at the end. 

Grey was exhausted. It was easy to tell. Grey was sleeping about 4 hours a night and the rest of the time he spent either hiking with Harold or taking notes. They stopped frequently to take notes about the Wastes. Anything they could find that was slightly interesting was documented as well as possible. If they were to die and someone found these notes then maybe reading the words of two highly trained scientists, one with the Vault equivalent of a Ph.D., would help them navigate this Wasteland to safety. Or at least it was something to take their minds off of how much had been lost just three short days ago. 

They were trudging onward, heading east. About 100 miles northeast from them was Vault 6, under the city that formerly known as Reno before the war. Grey believed that if they were to go there and present their situation to the Overseer then maybe he would take them into the Vault. Then again, fewer Warheads had been targeted at that area and the radiation was less severe. Maybe the Vault had opened earlier and its citizens already used the Garden of Eden Creation Kit, or GECK, to revitalize the land and create a New City, a New Reno? So many possibilities and none of them certain. 

"What I wouldn't give for a little certainty in my life," Harold mumbled. 

If Grey heard that he gave no indication. Instead he was looking at something. At another pile of rocks, so it seemed. Harold was starting to wonder if Grey would ever stop looking at stones and thinking there was some scientific marvel behind each one. 

"Harold. Stop. I think I've found something." Grey looked a mite nervous, but a hopeful sparkle in his eye brought Harold to a dead stop. 

Looking down at the pile of rocks Grey was Harold realized that behind them sat about 12 round things that were not rocks. They were about a foot long and oval shaped. The outside was hard and if they were polished they may have even shined. They were a little discolored from the constant dirty winds that seemed to always be blowing, but other wise they were a light brownish color. Suddenly realization hit Harold. 

"Eggs! Grey they're eggs!" Harold must have looked like a child about to get a present for being extra good, but he didn't care. Maybe they weren't going to die after all. 

"You think these are edible?" Grey arched an eyebrow. "I've never even heard of eggs this large. Then again I guess much too much has changed since the war. I wonder what kind of creature could lay eggs this large." 

Harold considered that for a moment and decided that he didn't care. "Grey we have food now. If it's not edible then we die. If we don't eat them we die anyway. Don't you think it's worth a shot?" 

Looking at his friend again Harold started to understand the thought that was running through the other man's mind. At first he became angry before realizing that although Grey may be trying to change his image a little, he was still a scientist at heart. Maybe putting the thought out of his mind gently would be Harold's safest option. It would surely be the safest option for both their stomachs. 

"Harold, maybe we could-" Grey started. 

"Eat right now? I couldn't agree with you more Grey. But I was thinking, maybe we should eat one of these things now and then keep a couple more for later. That way we have a food supply, even if it is meager, and if we find something else to eat we could study these eggs. Who knows what we'll discover?" 

Grey realized what his friend was trying to get at and immediately gave that satisfied grin Harold hadn't seen since before they had ever taken a breath of air from outside the Vault. Grey was still a human being and a little reasoning with him would work as well as it would with anybody. Besides that, from five feet away Harold could hear Grey's stomach growling with anticipation. They would feast soon. Harold was sure of it. 

"I guess sacrificing one egg wouldn't harm the scientific community too much…" Grey was beaming now. "I just hope you can figure out how to cook this thing." 

"Would you like it scrambled or over easy?" 

At that both men doubled over laughing. 

How long had it been since they last had a good laugh? The rough desert they now called their home was far from humorous and being thirsty all the time made conversation difficult. But it was much more than that. The situation they had gotten themselves into made laughing almost impossible most times. Even now the anxiety of living was etched on both men's faces as roars of laughter made them double over in pain. When would they be free to laugh again? 

Wiping the tears from his formerly dry eyes, Harold began the task of trying to figure out exactly how he was going to cook these eggs. The books about hen eggs he read while in the vault said that eggs needed to be cracked open in order to be eaten. And cracked a certain way, no doubt. Looking around at the surrounding area, Harold found what he was looking for. 

A large flat rock that was scorched hot in the midday sun of the Wastes sat next to another, smaller rock that taller than it was wide. Both rocks had their fair share of dust clinging to the sides of them, and were very close to boulder sized rocks. The very large rocks provided some shade about five feet from where the smaller rocks lay. 

Snatching an egg from the ground Harold sprinted over to where the formation of stones lay as fast as he could manage with the massive egg in his hands. Gently tapping the egg on the side of the tall thin rock produced nothing, so Harold tried a more direct approach. Raising the egg over his head he brought it down with as much power as his weary arms could find. 

"Are you sure you know what you're doing friend?" 

Looking down at the small crack that had formed on the side of the egg brought a broad smile to Harold's face. 

"Yeah, Grey. I think I've got it pal." 

Applying pressure to the crack in the egg, Harold widened it as much as he felt was necessary. Then he attempted to pour the contents of the egg onto the hot, flat rock. As the yellow and translucent liquids from inside the eggshell hit the rock, steam hissed and the liquid bubbled. 

"So what do you do now?" 

"Well, um…" Harold scratched his head. "Damn, the books said it should be easier than this." 

"Weren't they also dealing with eggs fifty times smaller?" 

"Good point." 

"So your next course of action would be…?" 

"Figure out how the hell to cook an egg fifty times larger." 

That brought a small sigh from Grey but Harold wasn't to be discouraged. The thoughts tickled the back of his mind. The promise he made minutes after being exiled from the Vault. How Lucy always cooked him his meals. How he hadn't been there for Lucy when she needed him most. 

Lucy. 

Just her name made his hands tighten into balls. Reliche would pay. No doubt in his mind. Harold had promised himself that before he was Harold. So long as Reliche was breathing freely Harold had to keep himself alive. Once Reliche had felt the wrath- 

"Harold!" 

Harold woke suddenly from his daydream. It seemed that Grey had that worried fatherly look on his face again. The man certainly felt responsible, even if he had done nothing wrong. Grey made another reason for vengeance in Harold's mind. Not only had Lucy and Harold's life been destroyed, but Grey's had been as well. Reliche would pay. Harold's stomach let out a ferocious growl. Well, nobody would pay the retribution they owed if Harold couldn't remember how to cook these eggs. Another growl from his stomach seemed to whip his mind into action. How the hell to cook these eggs? 

Putting his face close to the rock, Grey sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "I think something is wrong with these eggs Harold. They smell… charred." 

"Shit!" In all his thinking Harold had forgotten that eggs would burn if cooked too long. Hell, anything would burn if cooked too long, but these eggs seemed especially sensitive. "Aw, hell!" The egg was slightly blackened on the bottom and incredibly hot. Harold stabbed the eggs with his knife and tried to get some of the steam out. Maybe this would be a good time to tell Grey that he was never a good cook, as if he hadn't figured that out already. 

"Here Rich, try some of this." Harold held out a piece of the egg for Grey to taste with the knife. Grey smelled it, wrinkling his nose again, and shot a quick glance at his friend. Harold motioned with the knife and Grey snatched the egg off and into his mouth in one quick motion. 

"So how do you like it?" Grey tried to smile, but it looked much more like grimace. He shuddered as he swallowed and Grey's eyes bulged as the eggs hit his stomach. 

"Good Goddamn that shit is hot!" Grey rapidly exhaled and burped as if to get the heat out from his body. " But not half bad if it didn't burn you all the way down." 

"So do you want another piece?" 

"Fuck yeah, I haven't eaten in three days!" 

Slicing off another piece for his friend and one for himself, Harold scanned the horizon of the vast desert they had come to call the Wastes or the Wasteland. What exactly would this Wasteland hold for them? How would they survive without a steady supply of food? One thing was for certain; they needed more people. It was one thing to survive on your own for a week or two. It was quite another to even fathom surviving for a year or two without more people to help them. A small clan of 10 or 20 people could survive the Wastes, Harold was sure of it. Maybe they would need more food and shelter, but they would also be more protected. You never knew what would happen in this Wasteland- 

Harold's train of thought was interrupted but a grunt and a thud coming from Grey's direction followed by a low hissing sound the likes of which Harold had never heard before. 

Whirling without thinking, Harold stared in shock at the sight that greeted his eyes. His friend lying motionless on the ground, a small pool of blood forming by his side. Slightly more than ten feet from his unconscious friend sat the most horrific creature the young man had ever seen. Crouched was more like it. Crouching on the barren earth like a massive cat ready to pounce on its prey. Dark leathery brown and scaly, a seven-foot club-like tail with a metallic looking point was attached to the rear of its body. Six small double-jointed legs and a carapace twice as long as Grey was tall. Two massive razor sharp claws that looked as if they could easily dismember the largest man Harold could imagine rounded out the picture. The creature swung its seemingly undersized head in Harold's direction and looked at him with blood red eyes that looked as pissed as any humans could manage. The creature turned slowly and stalked to Harold. 

Looking to his fallen friend and the pool of blood around Grey's head brought a memory from the recesses of Harold's mind. Suddenly Lucy lay there bleeding, not Grey, and rage filled Harold's body. A voice came into his mind, the sweet voice that had haunted Harold's worst nightmares since the exile from his former home. A loving whisper filled his tortured thoughts. 

"Sam, my love. Avenge me!" 

With a scream Harold drew his knife and charged the creature. Hate from Sam Boyarsky's ruined life drove Harold forward. The creature sprinted forward and swung it's tail. 

Adrenaline charged, Harold ducked and rolled under the tear in the air left by the tail missing its mark. Squatting to his haunches, he spun the knifepoint down, and drove the blade into the left hind leg of the off balance monster. 

The monster shrieked as the hot blade split the joint of its leg as easily as if Harold had driven it into loose sand. Obviously rage filled, it spun with surprising quickness, and buried a claw in Harold's stomach, doubling him over and almost knocking the wind out of him. Looking up through blurred eyes, Harold saw a gleam in the air as the creature brought it's tail up, seemingly ready to deliver the finishing blow. 

A second flash of light came from behind the creature but Harold almost didn't notice. He could only see the tail poised and ready to end his life. The world was spinning and blurred. Grey was injured. Harold was about to die. Lucy was dead. Reliche was still alive. Reliche must pay! The whisper returned. 

"You must stay alive, my love." 

The tail came down like lightening and Harold sprang backwards, the tail striking the ground where he was with incredible power. The force of the blow cracked the ground and forced the sharp tip of the tail into the dry earth, trapping the monster. The creature swung its claw at Harold again. Harold blinked. 

The claw lay on the ground, bleeding slightly with a smoking hole in the side of it. The creature was screaming now and had a green slimy substance coming from its mouth. Its tail was still wedged in the ground. 

"Finish it!" A gruff voice brought Harold out of dreamland. 

"For Lucy!" Harold brought the knife over his head with both hands and drove the point through the creature's left eye and turned the blade with all the power his weakened body could muster. 

The sound the came from the monster was shattering. Ripping the blade from the eye of the thrashing monster, Harold took a few steps back, out of harms way. The monster tore its tail from the ground and took a few steps towards its attacker before finally surrendering its life and collapsing to the ground. 

"Unbe- fucking- lievable. Boy, I've been in these wastes for a long time and I've never seen anyone do that to a Radscorpion, especially not to a bull that size. Hell, I've never even seen less than four men attack a bull that size. What's your name son?" 

"Grey!" Harold yelled as he ran over to his fallen friend. He had a small lump on his head, a few cuts and his nose was bleeding. A shattered eggshell lay next to him. "Come on man get up!" 

Grey groaned and tried to sit up. "Harold, be a good assistant and get me some more of that egg." 

"You son of a bitch! I just fought, er, God knows what, and you are asking for some eggs!" Harold could feel heat in his face and in his voice, but he didn't care. He had just risked his life for his friend and the man had no idea what happened. Worse still, he was more concerned about getting more food from his assistant. True, he had been hit in the head by the huge- thing, but he should have some idea of what happened. 

"Don't get pissy with me! Here I am listening to this egg to see if I can figure out if it is a reptile or an insect and suddenly I have a headache and fall asleep. Then you wake me up and all I want is some eggs and- um, who is that?" 

Grey pointed a slightly bloodied hand at a large man standing a few feet away. In all the confusion, Harold hadn't seen large figure standing over the body of the defeated, what was it called? Rad-something? Not that it really mattered anyway. Not with that big man holding a shiny nickel-plated pistol standing next to it. 

The man was smaller than Reliche, but not by much. He looked about 6'3 or 6'4 and as if he was in his early to mid twenties. A black leather belt around his waist held three more clips for his pistol. Long light brown hair came down an inch past his shoulders and framed a sun-tanned face that looked both hard and curious. The short stubble on his chin announced that he hadn't shaven in a day or two. The man could easily have been some sort of post-apocalyptic bodybuilder, on a smaller scale maybe. He was certainly one of the stronger human beings Harold had ever seen. His faded blue jeans and white tank top conformed to his body in a way that most women would probably think was attractive. Women always did think things like that were important, even if they wouldn't admit it. The man had white bands on his wrists with something written on them in black ink and he was wearing a leather jacket. In the hottest part of the day the man looked dressed for the chilly Wasteland nights! 

Harold held his knife out in a semi-threatening gesture and asked, "Who are you and why are you here?" 

"Well son, if you are trying to act tough it'll be kind of tough when you have something like that on your knife." 

A quick glance down made Harold jump and drop his knife. The eye of the creature was still on his knife, and dripping some sort of foul smelling substance onto Harold's hand. Feeling heat in his face, Harold quickly bent down and cleaned his knife on the hot earth. Grey groaned and Harold shot him a quick glance, hoping to silence him for the remainder of the conversation. 

When he had finished cleaning, Harold looked at his knife and then at the man's pistol. Sheathing the knife Harold folded his arms and waited. The man didn't look dangerous but who knew what kind of person he was. 

"The name is Mark," he said extending his hand to Harold. "Now are you two going to introduce yourselves or am I just going to call you shithead?" 

From the corner of his eye Harold saw Grey raise an eyebrow. Maybe Grey hadn't seen what had happened earlier but it was plain to Harold that Mark had saved their lives. In some sort of twisted way anyhow. Nevertheless, the man seemed to want a friendship and Harold was ready for friends. A smile split his face, maybe they were going to survive the Wastes after all. 

"I'm Harold. Thank you for helping us." Harold unfolded his arms and took Mark's hand. Mark had a firm grip and the look he gave Harold was that of an equal. 

Mark turned, faced Grey and extended his hand. "And you are Grey?" 

"I am Richard Grey," Harold's friend said, extending his hand and firmly shaking Mark's. "Forgive me if I'm being a bit rude but can you tell me if there are any settlements close by?" 

"Friend you are three miles from Tradertown. How about the three of us go there? I haven't been for a year or so and from what I hear the town has grown a bit. A few more people and a new tavern, probably some new shops too. We can be there by nightfall if we set out now." 

"Mark," said Grey, "That is a great idea." 

"Let's just get our belongings and be on our way." Harold could hardly contain his excitement. People could live of this land! They were not damned to a short life and a prolonged death after all. Maybe this Wasteland held a new hope for fallen men after all. 

*****


	4. Chapter 4

The Plan of a Master  
Part 4: Tradertown  
By True Raven 

"So boys, are you going to tell me a little bit about yourselves or am I going to have to guess?" Mark was a large human being. There were no two ways about it. He was the type of guy who could walk into a room and attract immediate attention, both good and bad, from others. By stature alone he looked like the type of guy who was ready, willing, and most certainly able, to put up a hell of a fight at the drop of a hat. Maybe that was why he was so eager to get to Tradertown by nightfall. He had said only a little bit about the taverns in the town, but from what Richard Grey knew about taverns from the old writings he studied in the Vault, they were the perfect place to find a drink, a woman, or a fight. Right about now, Grey could use all of those. 

The first days of his exile had been completely frustrating. Even trying to do insane amounts of documenting on everything he had come into contact with during his first three days on the outside hadn't helped as much as he had hoped it would. He was almost starting to lose hope. Something he couldn't let his former assistant, and long-time friend, Harold see was happening. That was a man who had lost more than Grey had. Much more. 

Grey never married, he always believed that he couldn't handle the commitment of marriage due to of the amount of work he did. His assistant, however, had found a deep and rich love the likes of which Grey thought only lived in stories. Sam- as Harold was known then- and his young wife Lucy shared the kind of love someone could only dream about. The two of them were soul mates. They were perfect together. There was just no better way to put it than that. They were going to be the happiest people the world had ever known just because they had each other. They were going to live out their last days gazing into each other's eyes with all the love and passion that had been burning in them for a lifetime. They were going to have everything anyone could have ever wanted. Until a self-righteous, maniacal bastard took it all away. 

Henson Reliche, Overseer of Vault 8- damn did it hurt to think of him that way! - had Lucy murdered or maybe did it himself, Grey hadn't figured out which yet, and framed Grey and Harold. Convicted and sentenced without a trial, they were exiled from Vault 8. Harold wanted vengeance and Grey wasn't far behind. Reliche was as good as dead to Grey, but the Overseer's time would come, for now they had to worry about keeping the story just they way they planned it. 

Well?" the large man questioned. "Is anyone going to say anything?" 

Grey noticed Harold looking at him with eyes as pained as they were once happy. It seemed that the young man needed a little bit of leadership. Grey always accepted his leadership role. Ever since he was a young boy he had been a natural leader. For some reason, when he spoke others listened. A skill he was going to need indefinitely now, but also a skill he couldn't be sure would work. It would be very simple for humans to forget about keeping an organized government. The world wasn't destroyed when people lived by the way of the gun but rather when world powers got greedy. Would they come to Tradertown and find a haven of political paradise and distinguished gentlemen or would they find a collage of blood, beer, and violence with ramshackle huts serving as housing and savagery running wild? 

Grey shook his head slightly to clear that thought. He had to focus! If they could make this man believe the lie they were about to tell then they could make anyone believe. Mark was certainly more intelligent than he was given credit for. Where did he get his intelligence? Maybe all humans who survived were this smart and maybe not. Life always doled out gifts in various amounts to everyone born. All gifts are different and given in different amounts but all are useful, one way or another. Grey's mother had told him that after she spanked him for making fun of a classmate who couldn't learn as fast as he could. She taught him a valuable lesson that day, one he would never forget. His mother had taught him many valuable lessons he would never forget. 

Grey shook his head again and looked at Harold. The young man seemed to be worried. Did he really have reason? Reviewing the past few days in his mind, Grey decided that he probably did. It was time to take the lead and help his friend. Taking a deep breath Harold opened his mouth and began the story they had crafted so carefully over the past three days.  
"We are survivors from a vault, Vault 14 to be exact." That would explain the Vault suits both men were wearing, and if they found anyone who was from a Vault and who knew anything about the numbering system or location of Vaults they would still be able to keep up their charade. Very little was mentioned in Vault records about Vault 14 except that there was one and somewhere far to the south and east. Nobody could possibly walk that far to the northwest in the Wasteland. 

"Really," Mark mused. It wasn't a question. "Will you please continue with your story." 

"Sure. About ten years ago our Vault opened and we emerged from it into these Wastes. We were both young at the time, many details are hard to remember but the sirens…" Grey sighed. "… I remember them. Terrible years followed. Many members of our Vault died from the radiation, or from starvation. After ten years or so Harold and I decided to leave. We wandered around for a long time until we stumbled upon you." 

"And that's it?" Mark asked. 

"Yeah that's how it happened," Grey sighed again. It felt bad lying this way but the both of them still had members of the Vault who they cared for very much living there until the doors opened. They decided that they had to protect members of the Vault as much as possible until the grand opening which was still years down the road. Both men agreed quickly on this matter. Although it would be wonderful to watch Reliche's immediate downfall, they were obligated to protect the vault as much as possible. Looking at his young accomplice, Grey almost sighed again. The young man looked worried again, not to mention haggard. 

"Well that's a great story," Mark said. 

"Thank you-" Harold started. 

"If it wasn't a complete crock of shit," Mark interrupted. 

"What the bloody hell do you mean if it wasn't a crock of shit!" Grey screamed. He could feel fire in his face and in his voice but didn't care either way. How could the man know they were lying? True, they were ignorant of this land but they crafted their story asking every question they could think of to keep it simple and to the point. How could Mark know? 

"Tell me, oh great liars from Vault 14, what is a Wasteland Brahmin?" 

"Well- it's a kind of, thing-" Grey stammered. 

"Another question, since you don't know that one," Mark's face had twisted into a sneer, and his muscles were tensing and releasing in a very threatening way. "If you came from Vault 14, which is, oh, let's say 400 miles southeast from here," he snarled at the end as if to punctuate "here". "Then you wouldn't happen to know how some of my friends in the Hub or Junktown are doing would you? That is if you've ever even heard of them!" 

"Mark! Grey! Calm down!" Harold yelled. Why was Harold yelling at him? After a second, Grey realized that he had assumed a threatening position himself, with his hands squeezed into fists and held up as if ready to fight. 

"I am calm!" Grey yelled back, forcing his fists to unclench and stay by his sides. 

"Mark, do you want the real story?" Harold asked. 

As quickly as Mark became infuriated he became completely calm, washing the anger from his features quite easily. 

"I'll make you a deal, boy. You tell me your real story and I'll tell you mine." Mark extended his hand to Harold. "We got a deal?" 

Harold looked at Grey and nodded his head before taking the large man's hand into his own. "We've got a deal Mark. I won't hold anything back if you won't." 

At that Mark nodded and Grey felt an impending sense of dread. On one hand it was good to see Harold taking some leadership, but then again it was almost impossible for Grey to ignore that feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him something very bad was about to happen. 

**********  
  
"So we wandered around for three days until we stumbled upon you. That is exactly how it happened." 

All three men sat on their haunches in a small circle. Grey and Harold were looking at Mark with eyes both scared and furious. They were both the hunters and the hunted. In all his years in the wasteland, Mark never saw anything like that in anyone's eyes. Never. Nor had he heard of any story like the one that they just told. 

It was unbelievable to think that a man was going to emerge from the vaults in just a few years with that much manpower and technology behind him. Sure that Brotherhood of Steel he backed up in one fight before his raider days could combat him but their organization was still quite small. Mark shook his head. No time for worrying about that now. It was time to be a man and keep his word. 

"You didn't lie once, so I won't lie at all. We'll have to talk a little later about everything you said because we'll have quite a bit of work to do." Both men opposite him sighed, obviously relieved. "And I definitely have to get you boys ready for Tradertown. I don't want to see either of you wander into The Cage accidentally." 

At the mention of The Cage both men looked at each other and shrugged. Then turned their attention back to Mark. Responding to their indifference with a slight groan Mark realized that both men knew nothing of The Cage. Feeling like a father telling his two children not to touch a rabid pig rat, Mark spoke with a voice he hoped would get the message across. 

"The Cage is one of the most notorious and dangerous places in the entire Wasteland. It is basically a cell twenty feet by twenty feet and ten feet high. The walls are chain link and it has two purposes. First, if you wish to fight somebody or a group of people without anyone getting involved you go to The Cage and fight there. Second, there is a prize fighting organization called the Links who will lure people into fighting in The Cage. The Links find whoever they feel would give them a good fight against one of their fighters and promise them lots of caps if they win. They run the gambling in Tradertown and use The Cage to further their profits. Do not go to The Cage, understand?" 

Both men looked at each other again and shrugged before Harold looked at Mark and asked, "What are caps?"  
Fighting back the urge to either slap both men back into reality or just run to Tradertown and pray they didn't follow, Mark instead began to explain the wonderful Wasteland into which these two men had just entered. 

********** 

Henson Reliche glided along the corridors of Vault 8 with as much purpose and anger as he could manage; as such was expected out of him. But for any who looked closely enough at the Overseer, they would see he was really as excited as a Vault Schoolboy during recess. Not that many citizens had the nerve to look closely at Reliche in the first place. 

The first three days of his enemy's exile had been far from problem free. But trivial matters such as what to do with the skeptics who believed that Reliche had actually done something wrong by exiling murderers just meant that the Overseer had gotten a little more pleasure out of having them sent to the Detentional Facilities for a week or two. With the more minor problems out of the way shortly thereafter, Reliche would have no trouble focusing on his present duties. By now it was very clear to everyone who lived in the Vault; Henson Reliche was in complete control, and nobody was going to take it from him. Nobody. 

A small giggle escaped from the Overseer's lips. The seldom-heard sound was so foreign that a small group of boys playing in the hallway scattered, all but one crying for their mommies. That sight just made the Overseer want to giggle again. If the children feared him now, the respect he would garner from that fear would make him even more powerful in the years to come. Generations would pass and Reliche would get more powerful with each passing year. Fear was his greatest ally. 

As he neared the entrance to his chambers, Reliche smiled once more. As a constant reminder of his power he decided to take Lucy's sister, Helen, as his bride. Their wedding was set for just a few days away. She had all the wonderful physical attributes of her late sister, but unfortunately she also had some of the spirit of her wretched sibling as well. Motioning the guards away from the door, Reliche entered and looked at Helen. 

The marks from her last attempt to resist him had faded somewhat. The lump next to her temple had reduced and the bruise on the corner of her lip had become much less purple. "With enough pain and suffering anyone can be broken," the Overseer thought to himself. Putting as much of a smile as he could on his lips he looked at his future bride, who in turn spit on his boots. 

"I see your spirit remains as strong as ever." 

She glared at him. 

"I feel I'm in the need of some comfort, join me in the bedroom." 

At the thought of what she was about to be forced into again, Helen started to shake slightly. Reliche went over to her side and took her by the arm. Lifting her out of her seat he noticed that her eyes were glossy. "Tears are the first step on the road to braking someone down," the Overseer reminded himself with a small sense of personal satisfaction.   
Leading her into his bedroom he closed the door behind them and started to unbutton his Vault suit. 

As he got into bed and began to overpower his unwilling fiancé he thought, "This bitch better give me a son…" 

********** 

"So what you're saying is that bottle caps are the current currency?" 

"Yes Grey that is it. The Hub backs them and so they are the accepted form." 

Stretching a little Mark looked upwards at the sun. Probably around four or five in the afternoon and the trek to Tradertown would take only about another half an hour, although he didn't bother to tell his newfound friends that yet. They still weren't hardened enough for the place he was about to bring them. Even that miraculous kill of the bull radscorpion by Harold didn't mean that he could take on ten or twelve men at once, which is exactly what would happen if they didn't get a firm grasp of what to and not to say. 

The explanation of all the terms and beings he could think of in the Wasteland had taken the better part of the afternoon. The teaching had been incredibly tedious because of the questioning nature of the two scientists. Who didn't know that Brahmin had two heads? Of course upon just stumbling over a fact that everyone knew had forced him to answer a barrage of questions about how the radiation had effected the second head, with Grey furiously scribbling notes all the while. It was enough to make him want to just shoot the poor bastards and put them out of their misery. 

But for some reason he couldn't bring himself to harm them. Even when he stumbled upon them two days ago and followed them without them knowing it, he was sure he couldn't just go ahead and kill them. Something about them, Grey in particular, was just… special. It was like every time he loaded his firearm up and was about to blow the two hapless men away he couldn't bring himself to do it. Never in his eight years of mercenary/raider work had that happened before. And now here he was with a couple of men with the mentalities of children who he was forced to baby-sit! 

"So Mark what about you? Are you going to tell us your story now?" Harold asked. 

"Damn you boys just keep coming with the questions dontcha?" 

"Sorry, if you want to wait until we get to Tradertown and into a room we could talk then." 

The story, his story- the one he hadn't told a soul in all his years in the wastes that for some reason he was about to tell these two men- was extremely personal and was something Mark had guarded all his life. Now these two men had come out of nowhere and gotten him to actually want to tell them. What the hell was it with these two? 

"Yeah let's get settled first. Tradertown is just over those hills," Mark pointed to hills in the not too distant horizon. 

"Well Mark when we get there we'll listen to your story, there is no rush to tell it," Harold added. 

Breathing an internal sigh of relief, Mark jumped on the chance he had been given. Finally he could try and think of a way out of his word without killing these two. It wasn't like he didn't like the two of them, it was just that, well, they were annoying sometimes with their constant questions and their note taking. Sometimes it seemed that every thirty feet Grey would shout, "Stop!" and run over to a rock, peering at it and diagramming it. What could the man see in lots and lots of rocks? Maybe now that they knew Tradertown was so close they could slow down their desire to want to know everything and instead focus on pretending they were average Wastelanders- 

"Hey wait guys I think I found another great specimen!" Grey yelled as he trotted over to s small pile of dirt, bent down, and pulled out his notebook. 

"Ugh," Mark grunted. Maybe not. 

Mercifully after only a few minutes of writing Grey seemed to be finished and Mark decided that the men would need a little more advice and even some money. Damn these bastards better be worth his trouble! 

"Before we go on you need some caps," Mark forced out of himself. Again here he was going out of his was for these men who he didn't know. A handful of caps was all he had, enough for a few nights in a tavern, some food, some drinks and a few whores. Now here he was dividing his small wealth equally among these two strangers. Someday this risk had better pay off… 

Mark pulled a dog-eared bag out of his pocket and went ahead doling out his caps equally, about forty-five each.   
"That is enough for food and a room for two days each. If we get separated I want you to meet me at Merchant Pete's Tavern. If I get killed sometime soon go to him and say you know "Merc Mark" tell him your story and he will help you out." 

Mark realized that both men reacted with sudden shock at the idea that in the next three miles someone could die so easily. Even after the hours he just spent telling them about different areas and what the Wastes could do to you! They needed to see it to believe it. Too bad if they survived they would see more death in a week than they had in their entire lives before this point. If anyone knew where they were coming from it was Mark. Maybe it would be good to get that story out after all. 

"Let's get on to Tradertown boys," Mark said in a strong and helpful voice. 

Both men looked at him in that furious fearful way and smiled.   
"Sounds good friend," Grey said. 

And off to the horizon, and Tradertown, they went. 

********** 

Harold could hardly hide his excitement coming up the final hill before Tradertown. What would it look like? Any type of habitat would look wonderful right now, even something less than pleasing to the eye. Would it be big or small? Most likely on the smaller side from what Mark had told them thus far.   
Harold still couldn't believe the luck he and Grey had had in bumping into someone who knew so much about how to live outside and survive. Mark told them all about the different areas of the world they just entered. Everything from the northern mountains to the "Rad ridden hell of the southern deserts," as Mark called it. The lands couldn't be that bad. 

"Get ready boys, we may see trouble here." 

Both Grey and Harold stopped dead. Harold supposed he was looking a little too anxious as he scanned the countryside. The last thing he wanted was another battle. His eyes had beheld too much death the past few days. 

"What do you mean by that?" Grey snapped. The former Head Scientist was eyeing the surrounding area with uncertainty. It seemed to Harold that Grey was getting a little tired of fighting around every corner as well. 

"What I mean is that this is the final hill before Tradertown. If any Raiders are going to jump a caravan, or a small party of men for an easy kill, this is it." 

"So we could get raided by a force this close to a town?" Grey asked. 

"Tradertown doesn't have an army or even too much of a police force. If a band of Raiders wanted to take this place down they most likely could do it if they were large enough." 

"Well, why won't a band of Raiders do that then?" Harold was curious about this matter. Didn't it make perfect sense to control a place that made so much money? The land itself must be worth something. 

"No raiding clans have the balls to take Tradertown. For one, if they took it they would see less caravans. Nobody wants to get themselves into a situation where all their wares are in a town full of Raiders." 

"Well I guess that makes sense." 

"Wait there's more. If they did try and take Tradertown, they would have to come in during a certain time of year." 

"Well why is that?" 

"Because if they come in at any old time they have to deal with not only the Tradertown Police but the Guards from the various Caravans as well. The merchants that base themselves in Tradertown have a regular supply of Caps, they can hire Mercs to act as guards whenever they feel they need it. And trust me, they do so often. They are also the ones who supply the Police with their Caps so they may operate. This assures them that potential customers aren't robbed before they can spend their money at their shops. Trust me, the Cops in Tradertown do very little except keep people from stealing. Killing someone else is fine so long as you have a reason or do it for sport." Mark snorted at the end. "That's why I need you boys to stay away from the Cage. You will be hurt bad there and I can't stop it." 

"Mark we understand," Grey replied. "What do we have to look for?" 

"Well, first off make sure you don't se any glints in the horizon. Raiders ride in trucks and on motorbikes and always have armor on that shines in the sun." 

"Alright we got it Mark." 

"Well boys here we come. At the top of this hill you will see Tradertown for the first time." 

The thrill of the moment was bubbling inside of Harold. What would Tradertown be like? It had to be something significant else Mark wouldn't have brought them here. Harold took a deep breath as they took the final steps towards the top of the hill. Finally, they came to the top of that final hill and looked down at what was to be their salvation. 

A small settlement welcomed them at the top of the next plateau. From the looks of it, it wasn't huge by any stretch of the imagination and looked a little run down as well. There was a wall of old pieces of scrap metal around the town with what looked like a rusty chain link fence behind it. Past that was a large open area in the center of town and around it was what looked like different types of buildings in different places. All of which were made of either wood or scrap metal. Nobody lived in luxury in the wastes, so it seemed.  
"Mark why are there different areas in that town?" Harold asked. 

"Good eye boy, there are four areas of Tradertown; The Market, The Corner, The Bronx and The Cellblock. Every area has different things that go on in it. For example The Market is where all the caravans go, where the shops are and where all the jobs are for us wandering folk." 

Grey looked skeptical, "What about the other areas?" 

"Well, the Corner is where the residents live. There aren't many of them, mostly guards and caravan masters who live here. The Bronx is where the taverns, bars and bathhouses are. They call it The Bronx because they say it's as tough a place to go as the Bronx on the East Coast was before the war. Then there is The Cellblock, which holds the Cage and the Links. Remember what I told you and don't go there."  
Harold didn't care who or what was rough now; this place just may be a home for them until they could get back on their feet, so to speak. Some generous soul would have pity on them and give them a place to stay until the Vault opened. As haggard as they looked nobody but the most ignorant would turn them down. Even in a Post-Nuclear Hell nobody could be that ignorant. 

The thrill of seeing new things was almost unbearable for Harold. He knew the corridors of the Vault like the back of his hand but he always wondered what it would be like to traverse grounds he had never before seen. Now one of his dreams had become a reality. He looked at Tradertown against the skyline for another brief second before rough glances from both Mark and Grey got his feet moving again. 

As they made their way down the hill Harold noticed a gleam in the distance. 

"Mark what's that?" he pointed to the gleaming object. "Those aren't raiders are they?" Harold asked, getting a bit nervous and touching his sheath to make sure his knife was there. 

"Not Raiders. You are about to see your first caravans boys," Mark said, and then spit before continuing, gesturing with his head. "That particular one is going in through the Northgate. We're coming in through the Westgate. Settle down and concentrate on keeping your eyes open. You are outsiders here. Most places in the Wastes don't care for outsiders. And trust me Tradertown doesn't take kindly to strangers causing trouble. You'd better be friends with important people to get your ass out of trouble." 

"Er, Mark what about that gleam?" Grey asked as he pointed to another gleam moving more quickly towards them from the other side. 

"Now those are Raiders! Let's go boys! Run for the gates, they are after the Caravan but will take us out too. Go, go, go!" 

They picked up their pace and covered ground quickly arriving at the Westgate before the Raiders could become too much of a threat. Mark nodded at the guard who let them in with only a slight suspicious glance at Harold and Grey. They went on by the stone-faced guard and into the less than crowded streets. 

As they got to the gates they realized that the Raiders were now after the Caravan alone. They stood and watched as the Raiders came across the area they just left, only a handful of them, maybe six at the most, in a pickup truck and three Motorbikes. The Caravan was out of sight and most likely near the Northgate. 

"Well they aren't going to catch that Caravan are they?" Grey said. 

"Don't get too cocky, Grey. Raiders are good at Raiding and splitting up their prey. I'm guessing they already have another force coming from the East that will get to the Gates before the Caravan." 

Harold suddenly felt his heart in his throat, "Well what do we do about it?" 

"Harold we do nothing. That is why the Caravans hire guards. Trust me on this one, even a dozen raiders will have problems killing too many of the Caravan members on this run." Mark smiled grimly and shook his head. "Lost a lot of my boys on these trips. It would take a miracle for these Raiders to slaughter all of those men. I can tell, again trust me." 

Grey and Harold looked at each other and realized that Mark knew what he was doing. He was the one who lived in these Wastes all his life. 

"So you know all these people?" Grey asked changing the subject. 

"Many but not all. I see different people here every time I come. Most of the mainstays and I are friendly though." 

"So are we off to Merchant Pete's Tavern?" 

"Yes, I need to get you two some real clothes before the Links see you. They just love to hurt people in Vault Uniforms. The crowd gets a sick pleasure on watching them die." 

Small ripples of fear shot through Harold and made him look at all the people with more scrutiny than before. Most of them were poorly dressed in tattered clothing. Almost all of them could use a bath as well. Smelling himself, Harold realized that he was in need of a bath as badly as any of the others on the street. Other than that they were regular people, of all shapes, sizes, and colors. They seemed to do a double take at the sight of Harold and Grey and then went about their normal business, or glared warily. Mark was right; they would have to be very careful until they got used to their new home and its inhabitants. 

Looking around Harold did a double take at the sight of a pretty young girl who looked very familiar. That hair and height… of course…but it couldn't be…could it? Thoughts swirled through Harold's mind. Maybe Reliche had tricked him, no it was impossible, but it couldn't be, he had to know. 

"Lucy!" Harold yelled as he tore into a sprint at the girl. She turned and screamed and tried to run away. 

"Harold get back here!" 

"Lucy! It's me Sam! Don't run!" Harold grabbed the girl by her arm and she swung at his face with a knife she was carefully concealing. Ducking he disarmed her with shocking ease and held her in an embrace. 

"Lucy how I've missed you." Harold almost sobbed into her hair. "I love you my darling." 

"Harold you fucking idiot let go of her!" a man yelled behind him. 

Anger boiled inside Harold. Someone was trying to take his love away from him again. Nobody would harm Lucy ever, ever again. 

Spinning around quickly Harold held the knife in one hand and Lucy in the other. Behind him Mark came to a sudden and complete halt from his run towards Harold's back. Grey skidding to a stop just behind the larger man. 

"What the fuck are you doing to my girl Vault punk?" 

Turning again Harold saw another man stride next to Mark. Obviously he was someone of importance; the way he held his body defined that. Smaller than Mark by a couple inches he was still built like a tank. The way his eyes were shaped and his olive colored skin, made Harold think that he was from what was the Orient before the War. Those had been men who excelled in hand to hand combat. Not people to mess with. His flattop hairstyle and scarred hands just gave more weight to the assumption that Harold was in very deep trouble. 

"Harold," Grey said a little too calmly, "Did you happen to see this girl's face yet?" 

"Well no…" Harold stammered and looked at Lucy. 

The girl was pretty but not nearly enough to be his Fallen Angel. Hastily he let go of the poor girl's arm and the knife. She ran towards the new man as Harold tried to stammer an apology. 

"I'm-" 

"Gonna get my ass kicked? Couldn't agree with you more," the large man moved threateningly closer to Harold. "Don't worry boy, when I make you my bitch you'll be in too much pain to get embarrassed over this. It'll be fun draggin' your face across the chains of the Cage" 

"You'll shut your little punk ass up before I shut it for you Geranimo," a new voice bellowed. 

Harold looked in the direction of the newer voice. A man with a large amount of belly under his tattered clothing was marching up to the scene. He walked with a quicker step than a man of his weight was supposed to and almost looked jovial if his eyes didn't burn into you the way they were now. The newer man stepped right in-between Harold and Geranimo, as Harold guessed his name was. 

Looking at Geranimo, the newer man snorted. "Are you trying to act like a big shot again? I don't give a shit and a half who the Links think they are. You are on a side of the town you don't own and unless you plan on fighting not only this boy but also Mark and I, I suggest you make a run for it before you wet yourself. Understand?" 

At that Geranimo stepped back and looked at Harold.   
"This ain't done yet, you still gonna be my bitch." 

Grabbing his protestant lady friend by the arm, Geranimo stalked towards the center of town, his girl waving her arms and pointing back to where they just left. 

"As for you…" the fat man turned and used that piercing stare on Harold causing Harold to wonder if he was the one who was going to wet himself. "Welcome to Tradertown. You seem to be a friend of Mark's so I don't think you meant any harm. Do it again however and I'll drag you to the Cage myself." Turning to Mark he said, "Welcome back Merc." 

Mark smiled and said, "Pete I've got some boys here who need help from one of the few decent men left in the Wastes. You up for it?" 

"Well that depends on the help they want." The look radiating from Pete's eyes had vanished, leaving a warm and friendly glance in its place. The look of someone who helped people down on their luck. Harold felt almost tingly inside, although the fear from his latest encounter with another person still burned his cheeks and was making the blood in his ears pound. 

"Let's go to the Tavern and talk it out, we'll formally introduce ourselves there," looking at Harold, Mark added, "and talk about how to keep ourselves out of trouble while we're at it."  
Harold's face felt like fire. He was very embarrassed about what he did to the poor girl. She must have been terrified. How could he make it up to her? Maybe he could find her something at one of these shops as a gift for the trouble he caused. 

Grey scowled at Harold as best he could, but the fatherly protective look that he had been bestowing upon Harold was in his eyes. Harold knew Grey wanted to do something to help him, but nothing could ease the pain of losing Lucy. 

Harold my love, I am no longer with you, but in your heart always. 

Harold blinked and looked around. People mostly walked by and the few who had stopped to watch what they surely thought was to be a massacre had vanished into the taverns and bars that lined both sides of the packed dirt street. Who or what was that voice? It had saved him before and now was here for what reason? 

"Who are you?" Harold asked inside his mind. 

Only silence returned his question. 

Deciding to ask Grey about this when he got the chance, Harold trotted along the street until he caught up with his friends and Pete. As they ducked into a halfway decent looking building, Harold wondered what lengths he would need to go in order to survive his own personal hell. 

******************


End file.
